


Hell Yes

by Poose



Series: The Reynolds Affair [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Adultery, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cheating, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hotel Sex, Literally Fuck Everything, Married Characters, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:25:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6753724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/Poose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back up to November in the same story, Reynolds Affair Maria POV. Why keep fucking a married man with three kids? A bit of an answer, a very nasty one. </p><p>Usual disclaimers and warnings apply: nasty people, nasty situation, cheating, general grossness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Yes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vigilantejam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vigilantejam/gifts).



The dog is curled up in a puddle in front of the blaring television. “Hey, what do you want for dinner?” she asks James, from her position next to him on the couch. Her feet are bare and she’s tried more than once to stick them in his lap. He’ll pick one up and rub it absently for a few seconds, then drop it almost immediately as he leans forward to shout at the Knicks, hands on his knees, almost lifting off the couch with the force of his intensity.

She wiggles her foot against his thigh. “Hello?” she repeats. “Are you hearing me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, though he neglects to tell her what he wants to eat. There’s some pork chops that need to be used up or frozen, so she decides that she’ll start those at the half. They can eat in front of the TV. James claps as the Knicks score on a penalty throw, and then he moves her foot so that it’s laid atop where his dick lies nestled in his jeans. He leans back against the couch cushions, spreads his arms out wide and says, smugly, “Did you want to get up on some of this?”

“Ugh,” she answers before she can help it, because all that means is he wants her to blow him. Luckily he can’t hear her disdain over the next foul buzzer. She gets nothing out of it, except for a kind of general reassurance that by doing so, she’ll tip the books in her own favor and he’ll leave her in peace no matter what the final spread turns out to be. Maria presses her foot with its white nail polish against his crotch and offers up a better idea.

“How about,” she says as she lowers her voice enticingly, “how about I go on into the bedroom and get started without you? Then you can come fuck me at the half.”

“What?” James says, a look of shock on his face. Well, she’s managed to surprise him. Maria tilts her head coyly and wiggles her toes. “Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head and turns back to the TV. “Not without me you’re not.” He makes a disgusted noise. “It’s not right.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure,” Maria says, abruptly withdrawing her foot and returning to her magazine. James whines, disappointment evident in the sound, but honestly, fuck him. He doesn’t deserve a blowjob. A few minutes later she says, “I’m gonna take a shower, then. Think on what you want for dinner. We have pork chops if you want those.” As he won’t answer at all, that’s undoubtedly what she’s making, but it helps to provide him with the illusion of choice.

The bathroom steams up quickly so she runs the cold water first while she texts him, then when the plan’s established she places her phone in the pocket of her bathrobe, which hangs from the back of the door, and turns the water up as hot and hard as it will go.

_hey_

_hey_

_i’m dying of thirst_

_believe me i know the feeling_

_what’s your thursday like_

_friday morning or thursday morning?_

_thursday_

_only a lunch meeting in midtown_

_so thursday?_

_[...]_

_[...]_

_[...]_

_sorry_

_yeah i can do thursday_

_great_

_text me if it changes_

_got it_

~*~

 

The only times they can reliably meet up are mornings when their respective partners are at work and Maria’s on her way home from a late shift. She’s pretty sure his wife works, though she’s unclear about what her job entails. Perfume? Skincare? Marketing? Something that demands a lot of breakfast meetings, so Alex does their school run and then comes to meet her at the hotel. He’ll spring for the night but sleep at home to avoid suspicion. First thing when she gets off work she’ll hop on a crosstown bus and pick up the second key. If they haven’t got a lot of time then she applies her makeup on the way, ignoring the disdainful sneers of the old ladies in the handicapped seats, who, she imagines, are just jealous. She’s hit pan on one of the eyeshadows, a shimmery bronze color that makes her eyes pop. Too bad the whole palette costs almost eighty dollars and she’ll never be able to afford to buy one. The other colors don’t look as good, but she uses them sometimes to conserve the bronze.

Meeting there in the mornings only gives them a few hours before the appointed checkout time, but they’ve used this hotel often enough by now that they can swing a later time if she asks really nicely. The makeup helps with that, too, in flirting with the night clerk to get her way. Maria’s never been above using her looks to get what she wants. She knows they’ve got an expiration date; she might as well enjoy the perks of being pretty while she can.

“11:30 should work,” says the clerk as he hands her the key. She lets his fingers graze her own as she looks at him from beneath coquettishly lowered eyelashes. “But no later than that,” he pleads. “We’re fully booked for the weekend and the room needs to be vacated so it can be cleaned.”

“Of course,” Maria says, shouldering her purse and picking up her lunchbag. “Thank you, sir, you’re really too kind.”

“Oh,” he splutters, “it’s fine. I’m always happy to help.”

“I appreciate it,” she says, and lets her hips sway as she walks towards the elevator.

The first thing she always does in the room is strip off her scrubs and hang them on the back of a chair. Then she lies on the bed in her underwear and waits for him, or if she feels particularly grimy, she’ll shower first, making sure to keep her face away from the spray and her makeup intact. There’s no set time to predict when he arrives; sometimes he’ll stride in ten minutes after she does, and on other occasions she’s showered, blowdried her hair, put on multiple coats of lipgloss, and begun to fall asleep naked on the bed before he shows up.

What is consistent is how he does her, a million miles from James and his incessant fucking need to be the only source of her happiness. So if she’s waiting, tired of waiting, bored of waiting, she texts him. It’s innocent enough, truly, but if someone went looking, they’d be sure to know. She’s going to investigate Snapchat, which she’s never used, but supposedly it disappears right away, even if you send a picture.

_where are you_

_on my way_

_hurry up_

_do what you need to do_

_i already am_

_jesus don’t tell me that_

_why not?_

_heart attack_

_how long_

_fifteen minutes_

_okay_

The lock chirps as his key registers in the door. Maria rolls over onto her side and sits up with her head in her hand. She pushes her curls over to one side to that the curve of her neck and shoulder is exposed to him, then presses her sticky lips together and licks them for good measure.

“Took you long enough,” she purrs, and lets her bare leg slide out from beneath the crisp white sheets.

“God,” he says, and tears his way over to the bed. “God, there you are.” He kisses her full on the lips and collapses into her. He gasps as her mouth opens to his. They fumble with his clothes together — she undoes his belt while he struggles with his t-shirt — and he’s half-hard already, that much is obvious as soon as she unzips him. She puts her mouth on him to get him all the way there and he passes his hands over her bare back in a series of cascading strokes that make her shiver.

“You already get ready for me?” he asks, brushing her hair back from her face and pulling it up in one hand so he can watch her.  
She gargles out an affirmation, nods with a hum that has him tugging her at her hair. Her eyes are watering a little bit, but the mascara she swiped is good. It never runs, even when she cries.

“Yeah? Can you show me?” His voice is soothing, low. He’s always gentle even when he’s a little rough with her. She’s never once been frightened with him, which is, she thinks as she pinches his soft testicles between her thumb and the knuckle of her index finger, why she’s able to come so much, so hard with him.

Maria looks him straight in the eye as she pulls off and licks her middle three fingers, sticking her tongue out as she does so. She kicks the sheet off until it’s crumpled at the edge of the bed. Her wedding ring scrapes across the thin skin of her inner thigh and leaves a scratch but it barely registers.

“So nasty,” he says, hypnotized by the sight of her working herself over with her French tips.

His hand travels down her neck to her shoulder as she pauses to catch her breath. His jeans are tugged down around his thighs and she kisses his leg, his smooth belly, before wrapping a hand around his ass and trailing a finger there, too.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he says. She repays the compliment with a gagging noise that is totally faked and that makes his dick twitch against her soft palate. Maria makes herself choke on purpose, allowing the clench of her throat to tickle the head of his dick. His voice is full of creaky wonder when he manages to say, “Jesus, look at you.” He flexes in her mouth, hot and bitter, and she does it again so he’ll cry out. She’s never felt more powerful when blowing a guy than she has with him.

She shakes her hair loose from his grip and just as quickly he fists it again. Maria spreads her legs so he can see her, an open invitation to eat her, touch her, fuck her. The fingers of her left hand splay in a tight V along the outside of her cunt, goosebumps rising along her skin. She’s so swollen, so desperate for it.

“Do you want me?” she pulls away to ask him, her throat raspy, because she needs to hear him say it.

“I want you so badly, Maria,” he answers, eyes dark, staring down at her like he’s never wanted anything so much in his life. “Whatever you want. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Give me your cock, goddamn it,” she hisses, at which he rolls her over roughly, pulls her arm behind her back, and slides in with no resistance.

“You were telling the truth,” he gasps against her ear, “Jesus, sweetheart, you're so fucking ready for me.”

Maria bucks into him and circles her hips. He groans at the sensation, opens his mouth as she fucks up against him. His tongue lolls out a little bit and she scratches along the side of it with the fingers of her free hand.

She settles for his dick like it’s a consolation prize. Eventually they end up exactly where she wants them to be. Slightly to the left of the center of the bed, his body curved behind hers, her leg hiked over his own, He cages her torso in with his arms; her head lolls onto the synthetic pillow as he fucks her in the ass, which is yet another thing that James refuses to do, and which she finds, although it’s painful initially, puts her on the express train to a blackout good orgasm every fucking time. His hips draw back and forth and make the bed creak. She hopes the room next to this wall is vacant, because even when she takes his fingers into her mouth this time, Maria knows she’s about to get really goddamn loud.

One is bumpy, two is smooth. The third one is building, low in her stomach and high in her throat — a nearly, an almost, almost, but fuck she needs more, needs to be full in a way that he’s unable to deliver, and without so much as a warning she reaches back and adds to what she’s already taking, crams her spit-washed index finger in alongside Alex’s perfectly adequate dick. He likes the sensation of her touch, if his steady chant of curses against her hairline is anything to go by, and she’s reached a crescendo, finally well-filled and she looks up at him, his wet red mouth and his dark-circled eyes and demands that he fuck her.

He rears back, hands gripping her waist hard enough to leave marks. Fuck it, let there be bruises. Let James see what someone else is able to give her, what another man can make her feel, make her do. She feels nasty, whorish, furious.

“Fuck me, you son of a bitch,” she snarls, “leave me something to remember you by.”

“I am fucking you,” he pants, hips snapping. “Fucking this tight ass of yours.”

She curses at him now. “Make me feel it, you fucking asshole, come on.”

“Oh my God,” he chokes out, and pounds her open, “oh my fucking God.”

“Yes,” Maria singsongs. It burns and it hurts and she’s desperate for more. “Yes, yes, yes.”

 

~*~

 

He’s getting dressed for his lunch meeting after his quick shower. Maria is standing in front of the picture window with the sheet wrapped around her still naked body. Her legs have mostly stopped shaking, but every once in a while there will be a tremor, a riptide of sensation down her inner thigh that comes from nowhere and which momentarily causes her to lose balance.

He sits on the rumpled bed and ties his shoes. The clock tells her it’s ten minutes until 11:00. Enough time for a shower of her own, if she’s quick.

Maria stares out of the window at the pale November day. He comes to her, strokes her shoulders, kisses them both from behind. “Do you need anything?” he asks, inhaling the scent of her hair.

She turns around to look up at him, the earlier lust in his dark eyes now replaced by concern. He looks as tired as she feels. “I’m okay,” she lies, because what could he possibly do to help her? Short of James walking into an uncovered manhole or getting hit by a bus, her options are as shit as they ever were, “I’m good. But thanks.”

“Money?” he offers, and she shakes her head, “I’m not a charity case.”

“I’ve never once thought that.” He tips her chin up so that he can kiss her. Hot tears prick behind her eyes, so it’s just as well that he has to leave.

“Miss you,” she says, and he turns to blow her a kiss. She catches it. “Stay up,” he tells her, and then he’s gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr being a bad person [@pitcherplant.](pitcherplant.tumblr.com)


End file.
